


Inconceivable

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Princess Bride - William Goldman
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Coulson loves Daisy, Creative License, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lots of Background Ships, Minor Character Death, Not Leo Fitz Friendly, Pirates, Playing with Canon, Romance, True Love, did I mention pirates?, fairytale, not Grant Ward friendly, not in this story though, or major I guess, yada yada yada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I will come back,” he said, serious. Another look crossed his face, the one she had first fallen in love with where his eyes smiled first and his mouth promised to follow. “This is true love,” he said, reaching down to grasp both her hands in his. “You think this happens every day?” </p>
<p>Skoulson starring in The Princess Bride (Modified.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Daisy grew up on a farm with her parents, just poor enough that they needed the farm to get by, just privileged enough that they had others to work for them. After losing both mother and father to illness, Daisy inherited the entire farm herself. Not entirely unheard of for a young woman, but unusual enough that she knew others talked. Especially since she refused every proposal that came her way. It confused Daisy, that there were even proposals at all. She was attractive enough, she supposed. And sure, the farm was blossoming under her care, but far from prosperous. Although, in a village outside a kingdom like Florin, she might as well have been royalty.

But she wasn’t.

So _why_ did her farm hand act like he was too low in status to even speak to her?

Daisy was a friendly woman. When her parents passed she used her inheritance to employ as many people as she could to keep the farm going and those surrounding it fed. She spoke to everyone she worked with, without a care as to where they came from or who they were. After all, that was how her parents were treated when they arrived. Her father, it was rumored, was in high standing in the neighboring country of Guilder before he disappeared, but whenever Daisy asked he would refuse to tell her. Regardless, when he moved into their village and purchased the farm, joined by a wife from a foreign land, the neighbors welcomed them without worrying about where they came from. They had no questions about lineage or even a surname, so her parents gave them none.

So Daisy, without a full name or history herself, was open to anyone who came by asking for work, needing assistance, or just looking to say hello. No questions asked.

But for this particular farm hand, she had some questions.

“Farm hand, I need to go into town, can you bring me my horse?” Daisy asked. She _would_ call him by his name, if he told her, but he wouldn’t. The poor man looked like he was going to faint when he realized that without a family name, he would have to call Daisy by her given name.

“Daisy.”

But now it was the only thing he’d say.

“And feed him beforehand,” Daisy added, leaning back against the fence outside her cottage.

“Daisy,” he repeated, nodding his head in acknowledgement. She fought the desire to roll her eyes.

“Oh, and braid his mane, with a red ribbon if you can find it.”

He paused, turning back to look at her. There was just a hint of humor in his eyes, she could see. He was nothing if not utterly respectful ( _Too respectful_ ,) but when she made particularly ridiculous requests she sometimes got these  _almost-_ smiles. Smiles that were in his eyes--he had very nice eyes--not his mouth.

(He had a very nice mouth as well.)

“Daisy,” he said, with that hint of humor that made her heart thump like a rabbit in her chest. Was she blushing? There was something else on his face now, an intensity she hadn’t seen before. _Had_ she seen it before? 

Daisy let out a dramatic sigh, turning away. “Oh never mind, just feed the horse and bring him to me, no braiding necessary.” Back turned, she mouthed out the damned word as it spilled from his lips.

“ _Daisy.”_

He was impossible.

***

“Say something,” Daisy demanded, backing the farm hand into a corner of the stable. He looked at her, confused and a bit startled. “Something, anything.”

“Da--”

“ _Anything but that._ ”

He closed his mouth, an unusual frustrated look on his face. Daisy stepped closer, too close, realizing how improper she must look. Why should she care? The man would barely speak to her, it was almost like standing too close to a brick wall.

_You know that’s not entirely true._

Brick walls didn’t smell this nice, after all, they didn’t have the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out of the neck of their shirts. They didn’t wear shirts at all, in fact. That would be ridiculous. They didn’t breathe in and out, quickly, as if they were nervous. Walls didn’t have feelings, how could they behave nervously? Brick walls certainly didn’t have wide blue eyes that looked at her like--

“Daisy.”

_Oh._

Daisy stepped even closer, her chest pressing against his. “Say it again?” She asked, unsure. Maybe she had been wrong, maybe it wasn’t…

But she could see his confusion melt away, a different feeling replacing it. Was that her heart pounding, or his? Perhaps both, at the same time? Was it possible for two hearts to beat so closely in unison it was hard to distinguish which one was which?

“ _Daisy_.”

She was close to him now, so close that his eyes were all she could see. Their breath was intermingling, and she could see his eyes begin to flutter shut as hers did the same. Just as she could feel her lips begin to touch his, Daisy paused.

“Tell me your name,” she whispered, not opening her eyes. Reaching her hands tentatively in front of her, she found both of his and held them. “And if you say it’s ‘Daisy’ I’m going to throw you on the ground and let the horses trample you.”

Miraculously, she heard him laugh.

***

‘Phillip’ was his name, a ridiculous name for such a man.

“You sound like a prince in a child’s story,” she said when he told her, the night they stayed up all hours _finally_ talking.

“And yet you laugh,” he said, the space between his brows crinkling a bit in irritation.

“It’s just so…” She looked at him in his worn shirt and his rough hands and his goofy face, one that had been open all along, she just couldn’t see it. “Polished. And you’re…”

“Unpolished,” he finished, but she laughed and shook her head.

“Just--” She shrugged, leaning over to the side until she rested her head on his shoulder. Looking out through the barn window, across from the loft they sat in, she looked at the stars. “Just you.”

She could feel him nod, carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a loose embrace. “My mother used to call me ‘Phil,’” he said, and Daisy pulled away slightly.

“She did?” He nodded. “May I call you Phil?” He gave her a funny look, but didn’t seem opposed. “It’s just so formal,” she explained. “Am I supposed to call you _Phillip_ for the rest of our lives, like everyone else?”

His chest rumbled lightly with a laugh. He had a very nice laugh, almost as nice as his eyes and his mouth. Maybe nicer.

“You can call me whatever you wish.”

Daisy laughed, but grew thoughtful. “Why would you only say my name, for so long? Since we met?”

Phil was quiet next to her, rubbing her back so slowly she wondered if he knew he was doing it. At last, he spoke.

“I was afraid that if I tried to say anything else, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling you.”

Daisy frowned. “Telling me what?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Daisy pulled back, placing her hand on his arm. “From the moment we met?” She asked, disbelievingly.

“Oh yes,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “The moment you told me to call you Daisy, I had to limit myself to that. Otherwise, it would be ‘yes I’ll get the milk for you, I’m in love with you,’ ‘I would be happy to check with the blacksmith about those horseshoes, I’m in love with you,’ ‘My name is Phillip, I’m in love with you. How much chicken feed do you want me to purchase?’” Daisy couldn’t help the gigantic grin spreading across her face. Who was this ridiculous man and how had she found him? He reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb gently tracing the edge of her smile. Phil sighed. “ _Daisy_.” He shook his head. “I tried so hard not to tell you.”

Daisy placed a hand over his. “All that work, and yet you were telling me the whole time.”

***

The happiness could not last. She should have known, things were going too well. Although the farm was enough to get by, the weather had not been good to them. So when a neighbor informed them of a ship that would be making a trip across the sea and was paying their crew well, she couldn't stop him. 

“You’ve never been on a boat,” Daisy objected when Phil was getting ready to leave. It was a nonsensical argument, sure. But she had the worst feeling, that something terrible would happen.

“It’s a ship, they’re bigger,” he said, trying to smile encouragingly. “Less of a chance for me to fall off.”

Daisy shook her head. “That’s not funny,” she said, crossing her arms protectively around herself. Why couldn’t she shake this feeling? It wasn’t forever, was it? “I just feel as though something terrible is going to happen. What if you don’t come back?”

Phil combed his hands through her long hair, probably terribly tangled from the day’s work. “I will always come back for you,” he promised, making sure she looked him in the eye.

“You’d better,” Daisy said fiercely, pulling him into a kiss. Phil kissed her back just as intensely, probably trying to reassure her that he would return, but in actuality making her worry more that it was a last kiss. A final one.

He must have sensed her fears, because he pulled away. “I _will_ come back,” he said, serious. Another look crossed his face, the one she had first fallen in love with where his eyes smiled first and his mouth promised to follow. “This is true love,” he said, reaching down to grasp both her hands in his. “You think this happens every day?”

 

But even true love couldn’t save them, as news traveled that his ship was overtaken by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who notoriously left no man alive.

Time passed, and Daisy knew that she would never find a love like that again. They made it through two long, brutal winters before the entire village began to suffer, so when the prince of Florin rode into town and asked her to marry him within the year, promising he would help her get her fellow villagers back on their feet, she said yes. It was the best thing for the village, and it wasn’t as if she was waiting for something better to come along. And while Prince Grant was definitely not better, he could have been worse. She supposed.

If Daisy still had any energy she would have rolled her eyes listening to his speech, finally  introducing her to the kingdom after nearly a year of a “long distance” engagement. (Preparations were needed, he’d told her, she couldn’t come to the castle just yet. Daisy suspected he wasn’t quite ready to be a married man yet.) He played up her status as a commoner, someone with no family, no name, her “exotic and unusual heritage.” Oh yes, she would have rolled her eyes, maybe sent him a challenging look, speak up herself and tell her own story, had she the energy.

But she had none. Not yet. She would put up with Prince Grant and his smug smile, his absurdly elaborate outfits, the way he smiled at her like he was doing her an enormous favor simply by looking at her.

Fortunately, in a way, she didn’t have to put up with him for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure truly begins.

“You never said anything about killing anybody,” Mack said, eyeing the young woman unconscious on the floor of the boat.

“Yes, well, I did hire you to help me start a war, so, I’m not sure what you thought it was going to entail,” Fitz answered tetchily, looking over his shoulder. The sky had begun to darken, but she still hadn’t woken up.

“What’s the plan there?” Mack asked, eyeing the girl as Fitz’s back was turned, hoping whatever concoction he used to knock her out didn’t do any real harm. What had he gotten himself into?

“I left a sigil,” Fitz said impatiently, looking back at Mack. “From Guilder?” He muttered something Mack couldn’t hear.

How fortuitous, that the people who captured the princess so conveniently left their symbol for the Florin prince to find. For a supposed genius, some of Fitz’s ideas were a little...simplistic.

“I told you I don’t take any satisfaction in violence,” Mack reminded the younger man as he paced back and forth on the deck. Fitz rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you were beating up guys left and right for pocket change,” he said, and Mack almost-- _almost-_ -reconsidered his distaste for violence.

“Those were fair fights,” he said instead, earning another eye roll.

“Murder wasn’t the plan,” May said, coming out of the boat’s cabin.

“Oh good, she speaks,” Fitz said derisively, and the woman stared him down. Fitz cleared his throat. “Yes well, if you want my assistance then you’ll follow this plan.”

“We’re being followed,” May said curtly, not even looking behind them. Mack craned his neck, but it was hard to see through the fog.

“That’s nonsense,” Fitz muttered, but pulled out his telescope anyway. At Mack’s feet, the young woman began to stir. He quietly sighed in relief. “Probably just some lost fisherman,” Fitz said dismissively.

May met Mack’s eyes, and the two exchanged a look. This was what _neither_ of them had signed up for. He needed the money, but not this bad. He wasn’t completely sure why May was there, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes as well.

Despite what Fitz said, Mack hadn’t gotten into this thinking he was starting a war. At least, not in a way he was hurting anyone directly. Those big kingdoms were always bickering about something or other, some land quarrel or petty slight of some sort. They were arguing over piles of gold while the rest of them starved. So let them destroy each other, he had thought.

He wasn’t prepared for this.

“Prince Grant is going to find you and kill you all,” a voice said, and Mack looked down to see a look of steely determination on the young woman’s very much awake face. She sat up, her short messy hair and wide eyes making her look almost wild. She stared Fitz down.

“Yes, well,” he said, looking through the telescope once more before putting it away and looking down at her. “I wouldn’t be worried about _our_ lives, right now if I were you, would I?” He stormed into the cabin, muttering to himself again.

Daisy swallowed heavily, but there were no traces of tears in her eyes.

“Are you thirsty?” Mack asked, and she shot a look at him, challenging.

“No,” she said, defiant. Across the boat, May scoffed. She tossed Mack a canteen, and he held it out--slowly--to the girl. “If you’re going to kill me what does it matter which way I go?”

“Fitz, he likes to make a fuss,” Mack said quietly, eyeing the cabin. “The man is said to be brilliant but his ideas can be lacking in perspective. Seems like he changes them a lot. Could change them now.” Daisy stared up at him, cautiously but also curious. He could see a spark there, no matter what Fitz’s plan was, this girl was not going down without a fight. That was a fight he might like to see. “What’s your name?”

***

Melinda May crossed her arms, listening to the quiet sounds of the waves hitting the shore below her. Finally, some peace.

“ _Excuse me_!”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This guy again. Fitz had made a big show about not seeing him as a threat, and yet he ran off, ordered Mack to follow and left her to deal with him. 

“ _Excuse me_!”

Sighing, she sheathed her sword and walked to the edge of the cliff. The man who had been following them was apparently still alive. And here she was hoping he would just fall and she could get this job over with.

She peered down at the man, silly mask and all. “What?" She asked. 

"I just wanted to see if anyone was up there," he answered casually, "to see what was waiting for me when I finish here."

"Could you hurry it up?” May asked, bored.

“I’m doing my best,” the man drawled, moving up another inch. Maybe half an inch. May sighed.

“I’ll throw you a rope,” she suggested, impatient. The man looked at her, incredulous.

“You’re waiting to kill me.”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m going to deliberately release my hold on these rocks and depend on you to get me up safely?”

He had a point.

“I don’t take the easy way out,” she said, truthfully.

The man stared at her, contemplating it for the briefest moment. “Throw me the rope.”

May pulled him up, letting him catch his breath for a bit. It was hard to tell with the mask, but he appeared to be about her age, decent build, not quite tall but not short either. She wasn’t sure if it was his physical strength that got him up the cliffs or stupid, reckless determination.

“What are you, a pirate?” She asked, staring at his getup. He appeared to be a sword fighter as well. 

_As if he can take me._

“How did you know?” The man asked, and May couldn’t tell if he was being clever or not. She scowled.

“I’d like to get this done soon,” she said, unsheathing her sword, loosening up with a few exercises. The man looked at her curiously.

“What are you in a hurry for?” Again, she couldn’t tell if he was being genuine, but it seemed so. And, well, if she was going to get rid of him anyway…

“Fitz has information. I want it.”

The man leaned forward, pausing a moment to empty rocks from his boot. “What kind of information?”

“About the man who murdered my husband.”

She said it coolly, as if it wasn’t like a knife in her heart every moment she thought about it. Which was every moment of the day. But being paralyzed by that feeling, she couldn’t afford it. She had to keep going.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and this time she knew he was being earnest. It annoyed her a bit.

“He was a doctor, working on a machine to help relieve pain. But the man who wanted to buy it was going to change it, use it to draw out pain instead,” she explained, not entirely sure why she was talking to this man. “My husband refused, he and the machine were carted off. I never saw him again.”

“How do you know he’s--”

“They sent me his heart,” she said, seeing the man wince. “So I’m going to find the man who did it and make him regret he was ever born.”

Interested, the man leaned forward. “How?”

“I’m going to say, ‘My name is Melinda May. You killed my husband. Prepare to die.’”

“Succinct,” the man said, and May found a small smile forming on her face.

“I don’t waste words.”

The man laughed. “No, I can see that. And then?”

She shrugged. “Then I take whatever pain I’ve imagined over the past year, all of the suffering he could have inflicted on Andrew, and I make him feel it tenfold.” The man nodded in understanding, and May stood. “Are you ready now?”

***

Mack stood up, watching the man in black approach.

_What’s with the mask?_

He was small, much smaller than him.

_‘Just wait until he comes around the corner, then hit him with a rock,’_ Fitz had told him before running off with the future princess. You know, the honorable way to kill someone. Mack was seriously doubting that guy was worth it. Part of him hoped the girl would break free, maybe get somewhere safe if that was possible. He’d carried her, he could tell she was strong. She could definitely take _Fitz_. Of course, the hand restraints and long skirt would be a hindrance.

“Hello,” the other man said, and Mack nodded.

“You made it past May,” he said, ignoring the feeling in his gut. _If he beat May…_

He’d liked the woman.

“I did.”

“Then you know I have to try at least as hard as she did to not let you past me,” Mack said, and the man in black nodded.

“I suspected that would be the case, yes.”

Mack narrowed his eyes. “Okay, well I think the fairest thing to do here is no weapons, just hand-to-hand.”

The other man looked him up and down. “ _Seriously?_ ” Mack raised an eyebrow, and the other man sighed. “Yes, sure, as you say.”

Mack took a deep breath, quelling the feeling he always got before a fight, even the organized ones, even the ones he knew he could win. (Which was all of them.)

_I don’t want to do this._

“There is another option,” the man said, and Mack perked up.

“I’m listening.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle of wits takes place. It doesn't take long.

Daisy clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms like the dulled point of Fitz’s knife dug into her neck. Oh, it could kill her, certainly, with enough pressure. But this was just a warning. She listened attentively, trying to make up for her lack of vision. She’d nearly escaped, _nearly_ , but her stupid dress had ruined everything. It was heavy and elaborate and ostentatious just like the prince who had made her wear it, the one she was inexplicably waiting on to help her.

He would never let her live this down, if she ended up living at all.

Footsteps approached, and she imagined the mysterious man in black, who she had just caught glimpses of from a distance. Was he supposed to be her _savior? S_ he couldn’t stand that word. But her aching knuckles, while mildly gratifying, were evidence she couldn’t get through this on her own, not like this.

The point of the knife dug in a little more. “Move any closer and she dies,” Fitz said, and you almost couldn’t tell he was nervous.

“It looks to me like she might not need me at all,” the other man said, amused. Daisy imagined him looking over Fitz’s black eye and busted lip, wishing she could see them herself. If she was going to die, that would at least be a satisfying last sight.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Fitz said, irritated. Daisy hissed a bit, feeling the knife begin to break skin. “What do you want with her anyway?” Fitz asked. “Are you going to take her back to your pirate ship and--” he made some noise then, one of both disgust and cluelessness, and Daisy’s lip curled. She really wanted this man gone.

“It’s none of your concern,” the other man said, steely. Something about his voice frightened her.

 _Pirate ship_.

Daisy could feel the goosebumps form on her arms. It couldn’t be _him_ , could it? The same man who killed her poor, innocent Phil three endless, agonizing years before? But he made it this far. He bested May and Mack, whose respective skills Fitz had not shut up about, as if they were his own. It was a shame, she'd liked them, from the little they'd gotten to speak. It seemed as though they had just fallen into kidnapping during a rough time, it wasn't a hobby. She knew more than anyone the things a person would do in times of desperation. 

But they were both so strong, so determined. Who else could have felled them so quickly if not the notorious pirate? 

She suddenly wasn’t sure on whom she wished death more.

“Well, we have a dilemma don’t we? Because I most likely wouldn’t be able to take you on in a physical fight, and there’s no way you can stand up to me in a battle of wits, so--”

“You’re that smart, are you?”

 _No_.

“Smarter.”

“Okay then,” the man said, before diving into an explanation of some sort of poison he would put in a glass of wine. Was he really leaving this up to chance? Daisy was nervous. Against whom did she stand a better chance, Fitz, who no longer had May or Mack by his side? Or this pirate, whose motivations were...unknown at best.

_Is it too much to hope they both die?_

Daisy heard the two wine goblets clank on the rock in front of them.

“So, which one is it?” The man asked.

Fitz scoffed. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

 

Daisy squinted against the sunlight as the blindfold was removed. Blinking until her vision cleared up, she saw Fitz’s prone shape on the ground, dead.

“I suppose it wasn’t so obvious,” she said wryly, looking up at her new captor. He was looking down at Fitz as well, expression not clear beneath the mask.

“I would hope not, I put the poison in both goblets. If he had figured me out I’m not sure where we’d go from there.”

Daisy’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re immune,” she guessed, and the man didn’t answer, just grabbed her by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, walking in front of her determinedly. “Our ship is waiting.”

Daisy ripped her arms away, stepping back. “I know who you are,” she said fiercely, sure of it now. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

The man crossed his arms, not looking too concerned about her revelation. “I am.”

“You killed my Phillip.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” he said simply. “How many has your new love killed, in his wars?”

Daisy scoffed. “He’s not my love, we’re both very aware of that.” And truth be told, she wasn’t sure which wars this man was talking about.

Prince Grant was very secretive about those matters, hiding under the condescending invocation of ‘violence isn’t something princesses should worry about.’ Was something going wrong in Florin?

“You don’t love him, but you’re marrying him?” Roberts asked, and Daisy frowned. Was he _concerned?_

“If marrying him can help keep my village from starvation, there is no reason for me to refrain,” she said, looking out over the hills in the distance. There was nothing in sight. “Any possibility of happiness for me vanished when you murdered Phil. Someone might as well benefit from such a union.”

“ _Daisy…_ ”

She froze. _It can’t be._ Turning back to face the pirate, Daisy felt time slow down. Beneath the mask she could see slightly tanned skin, with some new freckles. He’d never worn so much black when she’d known him, but those eyes. They were exactly the same. She couldn’t understand how she didn’t notice before.

Stepping closer, she watched as he took off the mask and the bandanna that covered his hair, that now held a few additional grays around his temples. She stopped with barely an inch between them, reaching up to grip his shirt with both hands.

Phil placed his hand on her cheek, moving in closer until she could feel his breath on her lips.

“Where the _hell_ _were you?_ ” She demanded, shoving him back.

“Daisy--” He began, pleading, but she shook her head, stepping closer and poking him in the chest.

“Three years. I thought you were dead for _three years._ ”

Three years she spent convincing herself to get over him and failing every time. Three years praying he would come back, despite never praying before in her life. Three years imagining the type of pain he could have suffered, his death. If he was lonely when it happened, if he was scared.

“I can’t expect you to forgive me,” Phil said ruefully. How could she not have recognized that voice?

“You said you would come back,” she whispered, allowing him to step into her arms, for he looked almost as devastated as she was. “Why didn’t you? Why are you a--a pirate?”

Against her neck, Phil sighed. “That’s a bit of a long story…” he said, and she stiffened. “One I will tell you right now,” he added quickly. Daisy nodded, taking a deep breath before releasing him. He gestured off toward the coast, and the two began to walk.

“Our ship was taken over by the Dread Pirate Roberts and his crew, and everyone either jumped ship or was taken captive.” Daisy stopped. “Yes, the ‘no prisoners’ thing is a bit of a myth.” They continued walking. “Roberts apparently took a liking to me, made me his personal servant, and I became sort of a protege. He taught me to fight, gave me schooling, took me under his wing for two years, ending each day by telling me he would probably kill me the following morning.”

“He never did,” Daisy said, and Phil nodded, smirking slightly.

“He never did. So two years go by and he decides to retire, end his pirating career. Then he tells me in secret that he wasn’t the Dread Pirate Roberts.” Phil said, and despite knowing Phil couldn’t possibly be the Dread Pirate Roberts of legend, she was a bit surprised. This one wasn’t either? “His real name was Nick, and he had taken on the title from the last Dread Pirate Roberts. I was still sort of worried he’d kill me, so we got a new crew, I took on the title and he pretended to be my servant until everyone believed it, then he was off to retire and I was a pirate.”

“You attacked ships,” Daisy said, and Phil winced.

“Only for the money,” he answered, but from his tone she could tell he wasn’t about to defend it.

“Why didn’t you come back once he was gone? If it was your ship, why not just sail it back to me and forget them?” She could hear the waves once more, feel the damp salty air on her skin. Was she really about to get on a pirate ship with this man? Did she even know him anymore?

Phil stopped, placing his hands on his shoulder. “The first port we docked in with my title, I went into town to try to find out how to get to you. Then I heard that you were engaged. To a prince.”

Daisy closed her eyes, mortified. What he must have thought of her.

“You had moved on, found happiness without me. And I had spent the last two years as a criminal,” he said, attempting to be calm but barely concealing his regret. “I thought you were better off. Then I heard you had been kidnapped, of course, and that changed things.”

“So you had to come to my rescue,” Daisy said, ashamed of the fact.

“I had to make sure you didn’t murder the men who took you. What prince would want to marry a wild woman?”

Daisy snorted, punching him in the chest. Phil grabbed her wrist, pinning her hand to his heart. “If I had known for a second you were planning to go through with a loveless marriage, nothing would have stopped me from coming back.”

“Not even death?” Daisy asked wryly, looking at how the mist was collecting in little droplets in his hair.

“Death cannot stop true love. It can only delay it for a little while.”

“Enough of that,” Daisy muttered, grabbing him by the back of the neck. “Show me how pirates kiss.”

Delighted, Phil grabbed her by the hips, his fingers digging into her skin through her dress. “I have to confess,” he said, pressing his lips to the side of her mouth. “I didn’t kiss many pirates.”

“Shhh, don’t spoil it.”

Daisy finally planted her lips on his when a horn sounded in the distance. She and Phil turned to look at the top of the hill. Prince Grant had arrived.

Happiness, for her, once again could not last.

“Darling step away from him,” the prince said, a hard to read look on his face. He seemed angry. That wasn’t good. Phil removed his hands and Daisy followed suit, but there was no stepping away.

 _If I move away they’ll kill him_. She eyed the archers behind the trees, the sword at his side. Clearly her Phil was somehow formidable now, if he made it past Mack and May, but he couldn’t stand up against all of these men.

“I don’t mean to be kissing your fiancee, your highness,” Phil said in that smartass tone of his she was hearing all day. It was a bit new to her. She liked it. “But to be fair she was my true love first.”

Oh, Grant would definitely not like that. His pride was the first thing she noticed about him, and not in a favorable way either. He didn’t like people staking a claim on things he thought were rightfully his.

Daisy had no illusions he thought of her as more than just a thing.

“I should kill you for what you’ve done,” the prince said quietly, and his men seemed to just be waiting for his word to pounce.

“We’re just a short ways from the fire swamp, why don’t you let us take our chances there? Maybe we’ll die, maybe we’ll form a nice fiery, sandy home, train a few rodents of unusual size how to fetch the morning news.”

Daisy couldn’t help the small smile on her face. He was such an ass, wasn’t he? But her smile faded as she saw Prince Grant reach for his weapon.

“Don’t hurt him!” Daisy shouted, standing in front of Phil.

“Daisy--” He muttered quietly, surely hoping she’d stand down. Didn’t he get it? He they weren’t getting out of this alive. Not both of them, not together.

She would have to lose him again, to avoid losing him.

“What?” Grant asked, moving his horse closer. Behind him, his right hand man Sir Ian Quinn (she doubted he met all the requirements of a knight, to be honest) looked attentive, like someone might take his new toy away from him.

She needed to get Phil out of here.

“Our marriage will go as planned. You’ll take this man to his ship and let him go.” Prince Grant seemed almost amused by her proposal, maybe a bit surprised. “Promise me you’ll take him back to his ship, no harm will come to him.” Daisy felt a light tugging on her sleeve and turned to see Phil looking at her with pleading eyes. “I thought you were dead for three years,” she said quietly, imploring him to understand. “If you died now because of me I couldn’t survive it.”

The words had their desired effect, of course. He didn’t want her dead just as much as she didn’t want him dead. It was a match made in heaven, really. If heavenly matches were doomed from the onset.

“You have my word, no harm will come to him,” Prince Grant said. “Take this man to his ship, treat him well,” he commanded, riding over and plucking Daisy off the ground before she had a chance for a proper goodbye.

_Well, not strictly proper._

Turning back, she saw Quinn get closer to Phil, and she and her love locked eyes until the trees surrounded them and she could see him no more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not going well.

“You don’t think Fitz actually outsmarted him, do you?” Mack asked, looking away from the piece of wood he’d been whittling for what felt like hours. May snorted quietly. She had a point. 

“Something’s wrong,” she said, standing up on the ship.

“You think so?”

She gave him a look. May didn’t say things she didn’t mean. A sound in the distance caught both of their attention. He knew that sound anywhere. It was Prince Grant’s hunting horn. May narrowed her eyes before beginning to untie the boat from the dock.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Storming the castle,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Mack sighed, putting down his whittling. “Right, of course we are.”

After all, this guy offered to help them, the least they could do was return the favor. And make sure he was alive to follow through.

***

Phil came to slowly, realizing a couple things: for one, he was a bit chilly, which could be explained by the fact that he was shirtless. He was also immobile, having been strapped to a table. Wincing, he could feel someone applying a wet rag to his head, where he suspected he had a nasty wound.

 _From those oafs whacking me over the head,_ he remembered, scowling if he was even capable of it.

 _Daisy_ , he thought, fruitlessly trying to fight his restraints.

“Now now, don’t strain yourself,” a soft, soothing voice said. Phil opened his eyes, focusing on the woman. She held a bloodstained rag in her hand.

“I typically don’t allow myself to be tied down by women I’ve only just met,” he said, trying to sound charming and unperturbed. But he was very perturbed.

“I’m flattered you’re letting me be the exception,” she said, with a voice so full of warmth and sweetness is almost made him shudder.

“Well, ‘let’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind.” He looked around as much as he could, noting the dank, dungeon-like surroundings. “Underground?” The woman tsk-ed, going about her tasks out of his view. “You’re going to torture me aren’t you?” In his time as a pirate, Phil had learned to withstand a great amount of pain, none greater than being separated from Daisy for so long.

This looked to be a bit more physical than that.

“Why tend to my wounds if you’re just going to hurt me even further?”

The woman sighed, moving to his side. She was very beautiful, he thought. Like a poisonous flower is beautiful. “Sir Quinn likes his subjects to start fresh,” she said, before walking away once more.

He _would_ get out of this. He had to. This was not the behavior of the sort of man who should be near Daisy, let alone marry her.

He struggled against his restraints until the pain in his head returned and he passed out.

***

“And the man we discussed, he’s still here?”

“Yes sir, in the dungeons. You were being truthful when you said some use would come from his continued presence in the land of the living.”

Daisy’s skin crawled, but she held fast, not moving from her spot outside the door.

“Yes, well, had things gone according to plan in the first place we wouldn’t need him now,” Prince Grant said, and she could hear him begin to pace around the room.

What man was he talking about? “And the other?”

“To be taken care of,” Sir Quinn said, and Daisy didn’t like the sound of that at all. A noise down the hall startled Daisy, and she turned to see if she had been caught.

“Darling,” Ward’s voice said from right behind her. Daisy jumped, stepping back. How had he gotten to the door so quickly? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, placing  a hand on her shoulder. “You will be safe here, but remember: never turn your back on the enemy.”

Daisy tilted her head, fixing a tame smile on her face. “But that would make you my enemy,” she said, noting the briefest look of irritation on his face. “And you’ve been so kind, there’s no reason not to trust you to watch over me.”

Appeased, Prince Grant nodded, gesturing for her to come into his study. Sir Ian Quinn was on his way, sending a significant look the prince’s way before departing.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I can’t marry you.”

That certainly caught his attention.

“Come again?”

Daisy set her shoulders. “I can’t marry you. I thought I could do it, but my heart is with someone else and it would be dishonest for me to go through with this.” Prince Grant sat in his chair. “Thank you for being so kind to me, I don’t expect you to be happy with this decision but I need you to accept it.”

The prince looked at his desk thoughtfully. “But your Phillip’s ship set sail two days ago,” he said, and Daisy felt her stomach drop. She knew he was going to leave, she _told him to_. But how could she reach him? “I truly don’t wish to keep you here against your will, so I will tell you what we’ll do. I’ll send four of my fastest ships after him and see if they can’t catch up. If they can, we’ll tell him to come and take you with him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened in shock. He would do that?

Prince Grant smiled kindly. “However, I think you have much to offer the people of Florin,” he said. “Your advice on matters in your own village has yielded progress, and I think with more of that we could turn the whole kingdom around after this ghastly period we’ve suffered through.”

Intrigued despite herself, Daisy looked at the chair in front of his desk. He gestured for her to sit and and she did. “What are you proposing?”

The prince gave her a sympathetic look, trailing his fingers over the map on top of his desk. “I saw your beloved’s ship before they departed, and it should be no trouble for my ships to locate him and bring us news before our wedding day.”

Daisy nodded. She didn’t know much of pirates, but it was unlikely the King’s royal navy wouldn’t catch up to Phil’s ship in two or three day’s time.

“If my ships are unable to locate him in time for the wedding, or if he chooses not to come along--which I can’t imagine he would,” he corrected quickly, but the sentiment was enough to put a pit in Daisy’s stomach. “I would ask that you consider going on with the wedding as planned. The people of Florin could use a queen who understands them and can speak for them.”

Daisy swallowed heavily, unsure of what to do. He was being kind, was he usually kind? She supposed he wasn’t particularly unkind, just...his personality left something to be desired. But that didn’t matter, because Phil would come back to her.

_Won’t he?_

Daisy sat up straight, looking at the map on the Prince’s table.

“I accept.”

***

Phil inhaled deeply, causing him to freeze up in pain. Quinn and the woman, Raina, watched him with interest.

“Do you know what I’m doing to you?” Quinn asked, stepping closer. Phil cringed unwillingly, wondering if he was going for the lever again. He wasn’t. If Phil could feel relief, he would have. He could only feel--

“Pain. You’re drawing it out, amplifying it.”

Quinn looked impressed, and Phil’s skin crawled. This was the man who had killed that woman’s husband, stolen his work.

Phil wasn’t usually a violent man, but he hoped she would get to tear Sir Ian Quinn apart.

“You were at a two,” Raina said, watching him as he took deep breaths, trying to recover. “The machine goes up to ten.”

Quinn smiled at her, before leaning down over Coulson. “No one has ever made it to ten before. Maybe it will be you.”

***

Two more days passed, and Daisy began to feel hopeless. Had his ship crashed? Could he have gotten lost? Or maybe he really did change his mind. Phil had been gone for three years, longer than they’d known each other. Maybe the man she thought he was didn’t exist anymore.

She pushed the thought away, heading to the prince’s study. She had actually been able to contribute to his meetings, offering up her suggestions when it came to the lower classes. Prince Grant’s parents were still with them, but older and not as well-suited making these sorts of decisions as their eldest (living) son.

But now, Daisy had a bone to pick.

“I heard you cleared out the thieves forest,” Daisy said, and the prince looked up from his map. He sent his advisers out of the room with a wave of his hand.

“I did,” he said, standing up fully.

Daisy stepped closer. “People were _living_ there,” she said, trying not to sound too forceful.

“Yes, thieves,” Ward said, looking back down at the stupid map.

“The kingdom is in a crisis, what is a thief anymore?” Who knew what these people had to do to survive, feed their families? The thieves forest wasn’t a violent place, there was a code, something she knew about running a farm on her own.

“Someone who _steals_ ,” the prince said, like she was a child. She hated him a little bit for that. He sighed, walking over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I know the wedding has you anxious,” he said, eyebrows raising on the last word. Daisy tried not to look affected, not wanting his pity over Phil not coming back. “But I promise, once you see everyone welcoming you into the royal family, you’ll feel better. The entire guard will be here to see us marry, every ship in my father’s fleet waiting at the coast to celebrate as we go past.”

Daisy stiffened. “Every ship but your four fastest,” she said, feeling her throat tighten up.

Ward paused, but then shook his head. “Yes, of course, except those four. I thought that was assumed,” he said, as charming as he could be. But she’d seen his eyes.

“You lied,” Daisy said, watching his face as he attempted to look innocent. Staring him down, she saw his eyes harden and his jaw clench. He wasn’t going to pretend anymore. “Where is he?”

“Gone,” the prince said coldly, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “He’s gone for good this time, dead, so you had better--” he cried out as Daisy’s forehead struck his nose.

“You’re a _liar_ ,” Daisy hissed, before turning to run out of the room. She didn’t make it far however, as Ward grabbed her and threw her against the bookshelf, knocking the wind out of her.

“After _everything_ I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” He pointed to his bloody nose, grabbing her by the chin painfully when she didn’t answer. “Hmm?”

Daisy stared up at him fiercely. “You repulse me. You’re nothing but a coward. I will _never_ marry you and if you try and make me I will be sure to spend the rest of my life making yours a living hell.”

The prince snarled, gripping upper arm and dragging her out of the room and down the hall. Shoving her into her room, he slammed the door behind her, and as she banged on it she heard the rough clang of the lock falling into place.

“We’ll marry tomorrow, or you’ll watch your village burn to the ground.”

***

People didn’t just reject Prince Grant of Florin. No one did, especially not worthless, filthy farm girls from who knows where. It didn’t matter that her time was limited, she had the gall to refuse him? After everything he’d done for her? The prince stormed through the halls, down to the dungeon under the forest floor. He pushed Quinn aside, leaning over the pathetic old man strapped to the table.

“You could have been happy together,” he hissed, staring into the other man’s face. “You could have been truly happy. No one else has that chance, I never got that chance, why should you?” The man just stared at him. Was that judgement in his eyes? From him of all people?

No.

It was _pity._

Ignoring Quinn and the woman’s shouts, he pulled the lever until it nearly snapped off in his hands.

Listening to the inhuman screams coming from the man’s body, Prince Grant smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little bit better

May and Mack traipsed through the woods, May taking the lead.

“How do you know it was coming from here?” Mack asked, stepping over a log.

“I just do,” May answered, continuing on. Mack sighed.

“Course you do, you just do,” he muttered, but followed her regardless.

That noise they’d heard...it was just horrible. It sounded like an animal being slaughtered, but lasted much longer than any death should. And it sounded...human.

“What the hell was that, anyway?” He asked, and May stopped, facing forward.

“That,” she said, looking off to their left, “was the sound of ultimate suffering.” She resumed walking, not sparing him a backwards glance.

Mack got the chills. “How do you know that?”

May didn’t stop moving. “I just do.”

Mack didn’t question her this time, trusting her voice. They had been in these woods for an hour, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust her.

“Stop.” May said, putting a hand to his chest to halt his movements. They stood in front of a tree.

“What are you seeing that I’m not?” Mack asked, before a portion of the tree bark swung open and a woman stepped out.

“What in the _hell_ are you doing he--” May punched her in the face and she crumpled to the forest floor.

“Were you supposed to do that?” Mack asked, watching as May stepped over the woman and looking into the tree’s entryway.

“Would you prefer I get her life story first?”

Mack held up his hands in surrender and the two of them descended down the staircase hidden within the tree.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Mack muttered, but they continued down the dark steps until they entered a dimly lit room. “Dammit,” he said, rushing over to the man in black. Well, the man who had once been in black. Now he lay there, shirtless and broken on a table. “Can we get him to a doctor from here?” Mack asked, turning back to look at May. He followed her unreadable gaze to the contraption the man was strapped into. Mack didn’t know what she was thinking, but he knew he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that look.

Placing his fingers to the other man’s--Phil’s-- neck, Mack cursed. “He’s dead.” Leaning back against a wall, Mack looked over at May. She looked back.

“I think I know someone who can take care of that.”

***

Banging on the door, May was getting irritated. Would she have to yell? She didn’t like yelling.

“Yes, _yes,_ what is it?” A voice called, before a small window opened in the door. A young woman peered through, eyes wide. “ _Oh_ , hello, have we met?”

“Once,” May said, a lie. Andrew had met her, but she’d never had the chance until now. “You’re Jemma Simmons.”

“I am,” the woman said, looking a bit flattered.

“We need your help.” May watched Jemma’s face fall as Mack stepped over, Phil’s body slung over his shoulder.

“Oh dear,” Jemma mumbled. “I’m sorry, I don’t--can’t do that anymore, so sorry.” She closed the window, and May gritted her teeth before banging on the door once more. “I _am_ sorry!” Jemma’s voice called, but the door remained untouched.

May sighed. “We need your help, it’s about Prince Grant.”

The window opened. “Come again?”

“We’re going to destroy him,” May said, and she saw the other woman’s eyes dance before she opened the door fully.

“Please come in,” she said, ushering the three of them through. “We have guests!” She called, and a young man came into the open living space.

“Hello there,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake May’s. “You can call me Trip.”

May nodded, looking over at Mack and Phil. Trip’s eyes widened and he cleared off a large table so Mack and May could lay Phil down on its surface.

“Damn, he’s in rough shape,” Trip said, shaking his head. “Ward do this to him?” May nodded. “He’s the reason Jemma had to stop practicing, that man is up to no good.”

“He seems less interested in the healing arts, more interested in...harm,” Jemma said, cringing. “He heard about my reputation and wanted to put my skills to a different use, but I’d rather die before helping that _creature_ hurt others.”

Trip put an arm around her shoulders. “And I’d rather you not die,” he said, charming. Usually May didn’t like _charming_. Usually.   

“I’m familiar,” she said grimly, remembering the machine they had seen in his dungeon. It was too similar to be a coincidence. Similar, but also very different.

Jemma moved over to Phil’s prone body, giving him a quick examination. “Well, the good news is he’s only _mostly_ dead,” she said, and Mack made a noise.

“Mostly dead?”

Jemma nodded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Oh yes, not quite dead, not quite alive, just enough to work with. That said,” she continued, stepping back and leaning against the makeshift examination table. “That part of my work is quite outlawed at this point so I’m going to need a bit of incentive before taking such a risk. You said something about Prince Grant?”

May rolled her eyes. “This guy is in love with the prince’s fiancee,” she deadpanned. Jemma frowned.

“He’s her ‘one true love,’” Mack corrected, probably recalling Phil’s lengthy explanation of his and the princess-to-be’s relationship. May had gotten one too, but she retained less. She had a limited amount of space in her mind for other peoples' love stories.

“Oh, isn’t that darling?” Jemma asked, looking over at Trip. May assumed they were married, judging by the messy but otherwise homey space that seemed to have touches of both of them. She hoped she wasn’t putting them at too much risk by coming here, but Jemma Simmons was the only one who could help.

“So you’re saying that if we can bring this guy back to life, he’s going to ruin the prince’s wedding and make him look foolish in front of the entire kingdom?” Trip asked, intrigued. May nodded, and he smiled. “Well, you’d better get started.”

“There is one more thing,” May asked, catching all of their attention. “We think Daisy may need a little help from the inside, just in case.”

Trip nodded, kissing Jemma on the side of the head and grabbing a coat. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He headed out the door and a blushing Jemma clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started, shall we? Ooh, this is exciting!”

Mack and May stared.

“Sorry, am I setting the wrong mood?”

***

Hearing a hubbub outside her door, Daisy shot to her feet. It wasn’t time for the wedding yet, was it? True to his word for once Grant had moved the ceremony up, and she hadn’t yet thought of a plan. The door opened and a flurry of activity overtook the room. People were speaking rapidly in a language she did not understand, others yelled in a language she did understand, and bolts of fabric were being strewn across every surface.

“We. Need. Space,” an unfamiliar woman finally said, “She’s undressing!”

“I’m absolutely not,” Daisy argued, crossing her arms.

“He’s the tailor,” the woman said, exasperated. Her voice was heavily accented, and the man she pointed to didn’t say a word. “Out you go!” The woman continued, shooing the two guards out of the room. “You can wait outside.”

Shutting the door, she turned to face Daisy, a smile on her face. From the other side of the room, the man waved, busying himself with some sort of tool kit.

“I’m José, this is Elena,” he said, gesturing to the woman who was sifting through the piles of fabric looking for something. “We’re here to help.”

“You’re tailors?” Daisy asked, eyeing them skeptically. The man pulled a dagger out of his tool kit, letting it rest on his palms.

“Blacksmith, actually,” he said, and against all common sense Daisy stepped closer, eyeing the dagger. It was the most beautiful blade she’d ever seen.

“Thief,” the woman, Elena, said, twirling a knife of her own she’d found beneath the layers of clothing. “Also spy.”

“You ever use one of these?” José asked, handing the dagger to her, handle first. Daisy shook her head, feeling the weight of it in her hand.

“Not the way I think you’re implying,” she said, and José chuckled.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, and Daisy decided she like him. He was warm, friendly, seemed to have a sense of humor, and he just gave her a weapon. “But if it does, Elena is here to teach you a thing or two.”

Daisy took a deep breath, looking over the blade. Would she really do it, if she had to? Could she end a life? She thought about Phil, about the families struggling to get by in the thieves forest, of her own neighbors being threatened without even knowing it.

“Where do we start?”

***

“Man, this guy is dense,” Mack said, placing Phil on the ground against the wall. He and May crouched down, watching the guards in the courtyard below. “There’s at least a dozen men down there,” he observed, looking at May. “I can’t help you if I’m carrying him.”

May scoffed, but Mack could see the worry beneath it. “Might need to use this early,” she said, pulling out the pill Jemma had given them. She said it would bring him back, but needed time to reach full potency.

“Has enough time passed?” Mack asked as May pulled the pill out of its bag and opened Phil’s mouth.

“No time to find out,” she said, popping it down his throat. The effect was immediate, with Phil’s eyes snapping open so quickly Mack nearly fell backwards. May’s reaction was more helpful, covering Phil’s mouth before he could cry out and reveal their position.

“Shush,” May said, and Mack could see the man’s eyes darting back and forth taking everything in. “Are you ready to be quiet? Because if you’re not we’re all dead. Again, in your case.”

Phil hesitated before nodding stiffly, and May removed her hand.

“How am I here?” He asked, looking suspicious, as if the effect might end as quickly as it started.

_Could it?_

“We know someone,” May said shortly, looking over the wall again. “Listen, there are a dozen soldiers guarding the gate to the castle. You want to stop Daisy’s wedding, you need to help us get through them. Can you do that?”

Phil looked determined upon hearing Daisy’s name, and Mack began to wonder if they might pull this off after all. But then another look clouded his face.

“I can’t move,” Phil said, struggling to lift his arm. May closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“That machine you were in, who was operating it?” She asked. Mack remembered how she’d looked at the machine. Phil seemed pained thinking about it, probably remembering his experience, but a look of recognition came over his face.

“Ian Quinn,” he said, and May mouthed out the name to herself. Did it mean something?  “He’s the head of the prince’s personal guard, in title only I suspect. He looked pretty spineless to me.”

May nodded, unsheathing her sword.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mack asked, alarmed as she stood up.

“Give me two minutes,” she said fiercely, a new determination behind her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They storm the castle.

Two minutes, it seemed, had been overkill as May tore through the guards like they were made of paper. Once they got past the initial group, the halls seemed unusually empty.

“This doesn’t seem right, does it?” Phil asked, looking oddly dignified in Mack’s arms.

Mack shook his head, glancing around. Where was everyone? They kept moving, and that’s when the music hit him. Feeling uneasy, he tried not to look at Phil. Their plan had become a bit more complicated.

“ _Him_ ,” May hissed, and Mack followed her gaze down the hall. There was a man staring at them, and his eyes widened as they landed on May. He took off.

“Handle this,” May said before running after him.

“Hand-- what? You can’t--” Mack groaned, leaning back against a wall. “Look man, I’m going to have to put you down for a bit,” he said. Phil nodded.

“I apologize, I’m not contributing much,” he said.

“Not your fault,” Mack said, trying to think. “I’m going to find someplace safe to put you, then look for Daisy. And a way out of here.”

“Yes,” Phil said, looking off in the distance somewhere. It seemed he had noticed the music too. “I don’t think we have to worry about running into anyone for a while,” he said wryly.

***

May had him cornered, not that it had taken much. ‘Sir’ Ian Quinn’s power clearly lied in the people he had at his disposal. Without them, it was almost like fighting an inanimate object. Too easy. Wiping the blood from under his nose, the man practically whimpered.

“Please,” he begged, falling backward and scooting away from her. May tried not to roll her eyes.

“Hello,” she began again, for what must have been the tenth or so time, and he groaned. Each one was as satisfying as she’d imagined. “My name is Melinda May. You killed my husband. Prepare to--”

“I didn’t kill him!” Quinn yelled, and May’s sword stopped inches from his neck.

“You’re lying.” She pressed the tip of it to his throat, and he held up his hands slowly.

“I’m telling the truth,” he said, wincing as the wound in his side--or maybe the one on his leg--pained him. “We needed him for the machine, when he wouldn’t help with that, the prince told me to keep him alive.”

May narrowed her eyes. Why should she believe him? He was a coward, trying to save his own neck. “Why?” She moved her sword an inch back, and he sighed in relief. That alone made her want to slit his throat.

“You’re from Guilder,” he asked, and May nodded curtly. “ _Someone_ is going to murder our princess on her wedding night, since the original idiots we hired couldn’t get the job done,” he said pointedly. May whacked him on the head with the hilt of her sword. “Okay, okay! If an escaped prisoner from Guilder were to do it--”

“Prince Grant would have his war,” May finished, and Quinn nodded. If he was telling the truth, they kept Andrew around all this time just to use as a scapegoat. As an excuse for a war only the prince wanted, because he had gotten greedy. “Where is he?” She asked, pulling her sword away from him.

“In the dungeons below the great hall,” Quinn said, slumping against the wall. May nodded, standing up fully. Before turning her back, she remembered the bloody heart she'd found in a box on her doorstep. If not Andrew's, someone else's. 

“How many?” She asked, and the man looked up at her, confused. “How many people did you harm using my husband's work?”

Quinn swallowed, looking her in the eye. “Dozens.”

May ran him through.

***

Phil was normally a patient man. He’d had to be, all his life. He'd waited for Daisy to realize his feelings, he'd waited each day on that ship, hoping he would live to see her again, and he’d waited here, on this bed, for about ten minutes.

And each one felt like an _eternity._

 _Maybe my patience has run its course,_ he thought. Dying, then coming back to life, only to be carried around would do that to a person. Then, as if answering his prayers, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen walked into the room. Bypassing him completely, a vision in pale blue silk, Daisy walked over to her vanity and opened a drawer. She took out a knife.

For a moment, Phil feared the worst, but then she began expertly twirling it between her fingers.

“I suppose I shouldn’t find that as alluring as I do,” he said, and Daisy immediately let the knife fall to the ground.

“Phil,” she said, running over and jumping on top of him. “I thought,” she started, kissing him firmly on the lips, “you were dead,” she finished, repeating the motion a few more times. Phil kissed her back as much as he could manage, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “It feels a bit like I’m doing all the work here,” Daisy joked breathlessly, stopping any answer with another passionate kiss that, if he could feel his knees, Phil imagined would make them weak. “Oh, thank goodness,” Daisy sighed, sitting upright on his lap and embracing him, cradling his face in her chest.

Perhaps it was the dress--her _wedding dress_ \-- but things seemed to be a bit more...ample than usual? He almost felt guilty ruining the innocent happiness of her gesture with the thought, but he was only human.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to suffocate you,” she said then, pulling away slightly, holding his face in her hands.

“I cannot for the life of me think of a more wonderful way to go.”

Daisy smirked, looking very much like she’d like to wipe that smile off of his face. In a less than innocent way. “Cad,” she muttered, pulling him closer. Phil had just closed his eyes when he felt her get yanked away from him. Phil opened his eyes in time to see her land roughly across the room.

Prince Grant somehow managed to look both furious and alarmed, a nice change from the smug wormy demeanor he usually wore. Phil thought about the way the prince had looked at him, before ending his life. So much anger and regret.

From the richest man in the kingdom.

“Why won’t you just die already?" The prince asked, unsheathing his sword.

“It seems, just like running a kingdom and finding a wife who loves you, you have fallen short of your goal,” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “You were about as successful at killing me as you were at, well, anything else you set your heart on.” The prince made some sort of angry growling noise, placing his blade next to Phil’s throat. “Oh come on, it’s not all bad. You’re consistent, and not many can say that.”

“You’re going to bleed out on this bed,” Grant said dangerously, leaning closer. “And after we both watch to make certain you’re _actually_ dead this time, she’s going to die, _painfully,_  and the last thing you’re both going to see is my face.”

Phil felt a muscle in his jaw tick, but he continued to stare the miserable coward down. “That’s a pity,” he said, shrugging his shoulders (and trying not to celebrate at the most recent development in movement.) “Daisy dear, make sure to close your eyes when he kills you, so you can picture something more pleasant. Like a forest fire, or two warthogs rutting.”

The prince snarled, reeling back one last time, ready to end him. Phil had lied though, he wouldn’t close his eyes, wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Then Grant stopped, gasping.

“Never turn your back on the enemy,” Daisy said, pulling her bloodied dagger from his back. The prince fell to the floor, and Daisy stood up straight. She and Phil locked eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked, and he gave a disjointed little nod.

“You just killed the future king of Florin,” he said, looking down at the knife. Daisy followed his gaze, then wiped the blade off on her gown, leaving a bright red smear.

“I did,” she said, looking back up at him. “Well, shit.”

“We need to get out of here,” Phil said, moving to step off the bed before being reminded he couldn’t really move yet. He flopped over the side, landing on the prince’s body. “Oh god,” he muttered, and Daisy hurriedly pulled him upright.

“Ew, ew, ew,” she whispered, dragging him away. Bringing her knife into Phil’s line of sight, she looked at him curiously. “What do I do with this?”

“Leave it,” he told her, almost not believing they were having this conversation.

“Oh, but it’s so pretty,” she said, but took one look at his face and dropped it on the floor. “Okay, okay,” she sighed. “Come along.”

Arm around his waist, Daisy dragged Phil out of the room and down the hall as quickly as they could go. “Where--” she began, but stopped when two people came barreling out of a door. Phil recognized May immediately, but not the man standing next to her.

“My husband is alive,” May said shortly, gesturing to the man.

“Daisy just killed the prince,” Phil answered, and both May and her husband looked over at the short-lived princess of Florin, impressed.

“Good work,” May said.

Daisy looked at the other woman, pleasantly surprised. "Your partner?" She asked, and Phil remembered Mack saying that, despite the whole 'kidnapping thing,' he and Daisy had had time to chat and get to know each other.

“Hopefully finding our way out," May said. "Do you need help with him?” She pointed to Phil, useless at Daisy's side.

Daisy shook her head. “Oh, I’m not letting go of him again,” she said, and Phil practically blushed. May smirked, leading them through the halls and down a set of dark stairs.

Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she led them outside where Mack and a woman he didn't recognize were waiting. With four white horses.

Mack nodded at Daisy. "Welcome back, Princess." He and the other woman looked over the group, and Mack shrugged. “We may need to double up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue, kids!


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our adventure comes to an end. (Sort of.)

Daisy closed her eyes, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair. It was peaceful out here, deceptively peaceful. Feeling a presence behind her, she whipped around, unsheathing her sword in the same motion.

“Impressive,” Phil said, not flinching at the blade inches from his throat. “Elena taught you that one?”

“May,” Daisy said, putting her weapon away and smiling. “Elena is supposed to throw knives with me tomorrow, after we pick her up.” Daisy’s fondness for the other woman only began with her teaching her how to use a knife. Elena’s work spying on the royal family was masterful. And dangerous. And when the war kicked off, she didn’t bat an eye at continuing her work.

“You get more formidable every day,” Phil said, and it was the best compliment she could hope to receive. Sure, he went on and on about her beauty and her wit, but nothing pleased her more than the voice Phil used when admiring how dangerous she had become. “I told you, you’d make an excellent Dread Pirate Roberts,” he reminded her, looking back to make sure none of the crew was lingering on the deck. “As I said, we could get a new group at the next port, you could have the title.”

Daisy wrapped her arms around his waist, cocking her head to one side. “And as _I_ said, why would I want to become Dread Pirate Roberts when half the kingdom trembles at the idea of the mad almost-queen who nearly murdered their future king on his wedding night?”

 _Nearly._ Daisy never thought she would be disappointed upon learning that she  _didn't_ kill someone, but Prince-- _King_ Grant was the exception. 

“You’re right, that’s very impressive,” Phil ceded. Daisy for one was happy that, despite reclaiming his title when they found his ship, he had done away with the silly mask. She much preferred seeing his face. “The mad traitorous almost-queen,” he repeated, running his fingers through her mist-dampened hair.

King Grant’s parents mysteriously died not two nights after Daisy’s escape, sending shockwaves through the kingdom. Less so for the occupants of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ ship, who quickly made their services available to the kingdom of Guilder. Andrew and May were assets in securing that partnership, although the legend of Daisy’s escape seemed as though it might be just enough on its own.

“Our blacksmith would like a favor next time we’re ashore,” Daisy said, remembering her promise to José.

“He’s not going to leave, is he?” Phil looked worried, understandable as José's masterpieces were integral to their work. That, and he was an excellent drinking partner.

“No, actually there’s someone he’d like to bring along,” Daisy reassured him, patting him on the chest. She smiled, but a familiar anger nagged at her. “Under King Ward’s rule, he’s worried that they might not be safe.”

Phil nodded, understanding immediately. “Of course, tell him he’s welcome to bring anyone he likes.”

“Good boy,” Daisy said, grinning. Phil rolled his eyes, but she could see his ears turn red at the praise. 

His gaze moved from her face downward, and he stepped back to hold her at arm’s length. As if trying to take in the whole effect. “This look suits you,” he said, and Daisy raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think so?” She did a turn, jokingly, so he could get a good look at her attire. She was a fan of it herself, the britches providing far more movement than her skirts ever did. 

“I do,” Phil answered, looking absolutely, undoubtedly, somewhat pitifully love struck. Knowing the feeling very well, Daisy grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close. He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. “Are you going to show me how pirates kiss?”

Daisy nodded wickedly. 

_Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind._

_The end._

 

“Doesn’t sound very ‘pure’ to me.”

Elena rolled her eyes, looking to the door. “Are you trying to ruin my story?”

Mack held up his hands in surrender. “Not at all,” he said, smiling over at Robin. “Did you like the story?” The little girl nodded, looking sleepy. “Good. Once our friends are happy that everything is all set we’re going to send you back home to your mom, okay?” She nodded, rolling over and smiling into her pillow.

Elena stood up, satisfied at their work. “Good night, _pajarillo_ ,” she whispered. She shut off the light and left the door open a crack so it wouldn’t be completely dark.

“I’ve know that story,” Mack said as they walked down the hall. “You changed it.” This man knew everything, didn’t he? Of course she changed it. Elena thought it helped for stories to have a personal touch. Some she drew from her experiences, some she’d heard about from Daisy and the others. There weren’t enough women in the first story, in her opinion. Not to mention the prince seemed to get away with too much in the end. No, someone needed to stand up to him and his need for war. Elena thought Robin would like her edits.

“Yours probably takes much longer,” Elena said, elbowing him. “I let you tell it, we stay up all night.”

Mack laughed in that deep voice of his, that voice that made her want him before they even knew what the other was saying. “Daisy and Coulson know about your changes?”

Elena snorted. “Their story would be even longer, they take more time than you.” Mack murmured his agreement, letting one of his arms rest casually on her shoulders. Elena smirked. “Oh, now Turtle Man decides to stop being slow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mack muttered. “Don’t you think you were a little hard on Fitz?”

Elena snorted. “Smart guy is just fine.”

If Mack was going to argue, he decided against it, for which Elena was glad. "Why wasn't I in the ending?" He asked instead, and Elena frowned. 

"Of course you were," she said, trying to remember how she finished it. 

"No, you mentioned everyone but me, including the _master thief and spy_ ," he said teasingly. 

"You were below deck, pining for me," Elena decided, grinning. 

Mack smiled. "You're lucky I like you." Rounding a corner, they saw a very tired looking Daisy and Coulson heading their way. “Well, look who it is,” Mack said, “The Princess and the Pirate.”

Daisy and Coulson looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What?” Daisy reached a hand up to the junction between her shoulder and her neck, rubbing at it. Elena make a quick run to the med bay and grabbed her an ice pack, returning before Daisy had the time to blink.

“It’s nothing, get some sleep,” Elena said, and Daisy smiled at her gratefully, pressing the ice pack to her neck. Elena looked over at Coulson, who was looking at Daisy, worried. “You, make her some tea,” Elena commanded, and the man looked surprised. He didn’t protest. After all, they were both agents now.

“Okay,” he said, cautiously amused, while Daisy straight up grinned. Pressing a hand to her back, Coulson led her toward the kitchen. “We’ll recap in the morning,” he said, and Mack and Elena watched them leave.

“You shouldn’t interfere so much, they’ll figure things out on their own,” Mack chided her, but Elena shook her head.

“They move way too slow,” she repeated, before taking him by the arm and dragging him toward their room. “And so do you.”


End file.
